Don't Kiss Strangers
by hopefulwriter27
Summary: You really shouldn’t kiss boys you don’t know. They might be out to kill you. Sequel to Strangers in a Bar, though you don’t need to have read that story for this one to make sense. Outsider's POV


**Title**: Don't Kiss Strangers

**Pairing**: Dean/Sam; a little bit of Sam/OFC

**Rating**:PG-13

**Summary**: You really shouldn't kiss boys you don't know. They might be out to kill you. Sequel to Strangers in a Bar, though you don't need to have read that story for this one to make sense. 3400 words

**Warnings**: evil!Sam and evil!Dean

Bells jangled as the front door opened. Focused on rolling up a fork, spoon and knife in a long paper napkin, Shelia didn't look up before she called out, "I'll right with you. Sit anywhere that's clean." She heard the squish of wet boots against the old tiled floor as the new customers found a place to sit. It had been raining nonstop since early yesterday morning. Shelia cursed the Ohio spring weather and wished, for the millionth time, that she had gotten out of this small farming town. Holding the napkin shut with her finger, she grabbed the last red sticker from the sheet and used it to keep the napkin closed. She placed the silverware on top of the pile of matching napkin rolls. Then she looked up.

Her mouth went dry. Sitting at the center table on the dinning floor were two of the best looking boys she had ever seen. Every other customer had left for the night, most at two when Johnny stopped serving alcohol. Max and she were the only employees, he cooking and she working the floor, until six. That's when the breakfast crew started. Looking at the boys, sitting there smiling at each other, she suddenly wished she hadn't just spent the last five hours serving drunken men greasy food. She glanced towards the ladies room and wondered if she could sneak in and fix herself up without them noticing. A brush through her honey blonde hair and a touch up of eyeliner would do her wonders. As if reading her thoughts, one of the boys flicked his eyes her way, and she felt a flash of disappointment followed by a wave of embarrassment.

Sliding two menus from their spot near the cash register, Shelia made her way over to the table. She was acutely aware of the ketchup stain on her pink shirt and dry skin on her knees. _Damned the heat, I should of worn pants today, _she thought. When she came to the table she plastered on her most charming smile and set a menu in front of each boy. "Howdy guys. Welcome to Tucker's Grill. My name's Shelia; I'll be taking care of you this rainy night." _God, could I sound anymore corny? _

"I'd love for you to take care of me, Shelia." Heat rushed into her cheeks and ears as the one of the boys hit on her. Shelia took that as a sign to look him over. He's had a thin, but beautiful face. Sharp cheekbones curved above lush lips and perfectly smooth skin. When she caught a glimpse of dark green eyes under long, curled eyelashes, she lost a breath.

"Decide what you want to eat," the other boy barked out. She glanced towards him and he gave her an apologetic grin. He was closer to her age, early twenties, than the other boy. He had floppy brown hair that was wet and sticky against his scalp. Boyishly handsome was an accurate descript. "Sorry, ignore my brother's lame attempts to woo you." He held out a hand. "I'm Sam."

Shelia slipped her hand into his, and she's taken aback by how large he was. Sam's hand devoured hers. Even sitting down his torso towered over the flat surface of the table. He had broad shoulders, and Shelia could see the muscles in his arms and stomach from where his white button-up clung to his flesh. She couldn't stop the image of those arms wrapped around her naked body.

He tilted his head towards his brother. "This is Dean."

Dean set his menu down and stuck out his hand. His look was filled with hunger as she shook his hand. His thumb rubbed a small circle over the back of her hand, and heat burst across the spot. Shelia stepped back and let her hand drop. Dean had a devilish smirk on his face, and Shelia forced herself to look away before she did anything she'd regret. Locking her gaze on the surface of the table, Shelia wiped her palms against her black shorts, and then fumbled with the pad of paper in her pocket.

Tapping her pen against the blank paper, Shelia asked, "So, uh, you boys need time to look at the menu, or do you know what you want?" Her cheeks burned. She sounded like a teenage girl talking with her first crush. These boys had her off balance.

Dean leaned forward, a sly expression on his face, and opened his mouth. _He's going to say some bad pick-up line again, _Shelia guessed. However, he suddenly sat up straight and shot his brother a dirty look. He pushed out his lips in a pout worthy of a model, and settled back in his chair, arms crossed. Shelia glanced at Sam in surprised. His mouth was tilted upwards in a half-grin, and she caught the downwards roll of his eyes. Her head moved back and forth between the two men and she thought, _Sam just kicked him!_ Raising her hand over her mouth, Shelia hid her smile.

"I'll just get you boys some water." As she was filling a plastic cup with water, Shelia caught the boys rapidly whispering out of the corner of her eye. They were both bent over the table, foreheads an inch apart. Dean looked mulish, but Sam was grinning ear to ear.

Four years as a waitress made it easy for her to carry the two glasses in the palm of one hand. She used the other to pull out two straws from her pocket. Both glasses and straws were set in front of the boys.

"Thanks Shelia," Sam said. Dean ripped top of the paper off his straw then brought the paperless end to his mouth. He blew the remaining paper at his brother. Sam smacked the incoming missile right out of the air before it made it halfway across the table. Shelia couldn't hide her laugh this time. Sam smiled at her, and her stomach fluttered. "Can I just have a burger and coleslaw?"

"Sure thing." Her pen tapped against the paper, but she didn't write anything down. "What about you?"

Dean pressed his lips against the edge of the menu. "A cheeseburger and fries." He reached over the table, grabbed his brother's menu, and held out both for her to take.

"I'll just go give your order's to Max, and he'll cook them up in a jiffy." As she took the menu's Dean's leg popped out from under the table and bumped into hers.

She stumbled backwards. "Sorry," he said. There was hunger in his eyes.

"It's okay," she replied. A flash of anxiety jumped through her. She had encountered plenty of men's unwanted desires working in this roadside diner. It never really got easier to deal with. A large hand shot across the table and smacked Dean in the shoulder. Shelia fell back another step and her eyes swung to Sam.

"Seriously Shelia, ignore my brother. He has no manners," Sam said, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows flattened in an angry line.

Dean shuffled his in chair, rested his arms on the table, and looked up at her, mouth in a pout. "Sorry. I'm just stressed out, that's all. I don't mean to take it out on you." His lashes drooped and he said, "Please don't spit in my food."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. They were both so adorable. "Well, as long as you're nice to me, I promise your food will be spit free."

Dean's face lit up. He held his hand up, palms out, and shrugged. "That's all I'm asking for."

Shelia rolled her eyes. "Ok." A loud boom rattled the windows. All three of them looked outside. The rain was coming down in hard, splattering drops. It smacked against the building, creating a harsh _tap-tap_ pattern.

"I better go put in your order in case the power goes out. You don't want half-cooked food." Shelia left the boys to themselves as she walked to the kitchen window. She peered over the counter and spotted Max dozing in a battered fold-down chair. His beer belly rested against his jean covered legs. His white chef's hat had fallen to the floor, exposing his white, wispy hair. Max was a sixty-something ex-hippie. He had done enough drugs in his youth to addle his brain. Though he wasn't the smartest man Shelia had ever met, he was sweet and made a mean hamburger.

Shelia rang the small silver bell on the counter. The ding echoed into the kitchen and Max snorted awake. He rubbed a wrinkled hand over his head and asked, "We got customers?"

Shelia nodded. "One hamburger with slaw, and one cheeseburger with fries."

Max bobbed his head, picked up his hat and ambled over to the grill. Shelia saw him turn up the heat, and open a package of frozen patties. She turned away and with a glance to the boys, they were deep in conversation, she snuck into the ladies room. There was a single toilet, a ten-year old sink, and a small but clean mirror. Beige and pink floral wallpaper decorated the walls. Shelia sighed at her reflection. Her hair had gone flat. She runs her fingers through it, attempting to give it some volume. She pulled her eyeliner and lip gloss out of her back pocket. Looking into the mirror after the reapplication of her makeup, Shelia smacked her lips. _I'm no Scarlett Johansson, but I'll do. _

Another boom shook the walls and Shelia hoped the power didn't go off. _That would be my luck, _she thought. _The power would go out, those handsome boys would leave, and I would be stuck here until Henry took over in a few hours. _She flicked off the bathroom light and walked back to the kitchen window. They boys' food was sitting pretty on two white ceramic plates. Her hands slipped under the plates and she whisked them off the counter.

When she stepped foot onto the floor both Sam and Dean turned to stare. "Here you are." She happily gave them their meals.

"That was quick," Sam stated. Dean took a bite out of his burger and moaned appreciatively. Shelia felt hot. She moved to leave when Sam's hand shot out and touched hers. "Sit with us."

She glanced around the empty room then back to the boys. "Okay." She sat, with a boy on either side.

Dean was halfway through his burger and Sam had a mouth full of coleslaw when she asked, "So what brings your boys out this way?"

A dark look flashed between the men. Dean tensed; his chewing slowed. Sam puts down his fork. "Oh, a little bit of work and a little bit of play." Sam grinned, but there's still something dark in his gaze. Shelia didn't know what to make of it, so she continued talking.

"We get a lot of passersby in this place. Mostly truckers, but I can see you boys aren't truckers."

"Yeah, how do you know that?" Dean asked. His burger was gone.

"Well first off, you're both way too fit." Shelia tried not to blush when she said this. Dean smiled at her like he had won something. Sam just gave his brother an amused grin. "And second, there's no rig outside." She glanced out the window trying to make out their car through the darkness and rain.

A calloused finger touched her chin and shocked her attention back to the table. Dean's hand was at her face. "Hmm, smarts and beauty; Shelia you've got it all." Her mouth dropped open. She warred between anger at his forwardness and pleasure at his compliments. Good sense had her pulling back.

"I think I'm going to check on Max," she said. Dean leaned back in his chair and focused on his brother. Shelia found herself following his gaze. Sam's eyes were cold and clinical. Apprehension settled in her stomach, but then he blinked and the puppy-dog warmth was back. She didn't know what to make of it all.

"I've got to go to the restroom. I'll be back," Dean said and stood. He pushed back his chair and was across the room in seconds. Shelia drummed her fingernails against her bare knee while staring at Dean's fry-filled plate.

Sam's hand caught hers under the table. "Don't let my brother bother you." His hands were warm and a bit greasy from the burger.

She lifted her head. "He's very forward." He threaded his fingers with hers.

"Let's just say I got all the self control." He smiled like he told a good joke. "But don't worry about Dean. Just tell him no; he's good at following directions."

The words seemed strange. Sam's voice held too much fondness and something she couldn't distinguish. Shelia gave a little laugh, trying to defuse the strangeness. "Yeah, well you're more my type anyway."

Sam propped his elbow on the table and led their entwined hands next to his arm. It forced her to scoot forward. He brought his face closer and she felt his breath against her skin. He smelled of onions and coleslaw with an undertone of wet earth. The tip of his nose brushed along the side of her face and he whispered, "Is that so?" He smiled into her cheek and she couldn't help but shiver. She turned until their noses bumped, paused, and then pushed forward until their lips met.

Their kiss was soft and light. His lips were slightly chapped, and they sent pleasant tingles down her spine. Sam pulled out of the kiss first. Shelia chased him with her lips and hand. Her fingers curled in his hair as they kissed again. This time his tongue snuck across her bottom lip making her moan. It was followed by a sharp nip of his teeth. She pulled back in surprise. "Hey, I don't like that."

Sam sat back in his chair. "Sorry." The word was clipped; it was obvious he wasn't sorry. Her eyes drifted away, and suddenly she realized her hand was wet and muddy.

"Why is your hair all dirty?" she asked.

Cold humor flickered through his eyes. "Oh, well, Dean and I were at the graveyard earlier. It's hard to stay clean in the dirt when it's raining," he said, like that explained everything.

Shelia opened her mouth to question him further when the lights went out. The back-up light in the kitchen turned on, but it wasn't strong enough to light up the whole dinning floor. The whole thing surprised her enough that she jumped up and knocked over Sam's glass of water. "Damn it!" she exclaimed when the cold water hit her bare legs. She reached out blindly for one of the napkins on the table. When she didn't find any she called out, "Max, take a look at the breaker box will you?"

Silence met her. "Hey Max are you alright back there?" Still nothing. She turned to where she knew Sam to be sitting. Her eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness and she could make out Sam's large form. He was still sitting. "I'm going to go check on Max." She hoped he hadn't hit his head when everything went dark.

"That won't be necessary," Dean's voice carried across the room. Her hair flew over her shoulder at the abruptness of her turn; Shelia squinted into the darkness and saw Dean walking towards her and Sam.

"What?"

When Dean was close enough, he reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist. It was wet. "I said, 'that won't be necessary.'"

Shelia didn't like the cold amusement in his voice. She yanked her arm free. "Excuse me?" She glared at him then happened to look down at her wrist. It was dark with liquid. It wasn't water. Like a switch, suddenly her night vision kicked on. Across Dean's shirt was slash of blood. There was some dripping off his chin, and a few droplets spread across his nose like freckles. "MAX!" she screamed.

"I'm afraid Max is gone." Dean said like he was telling her Max had taken a walk. "I didn't really want to kill him; he made a great burger. But, we couldn't leave any witnesses." He stepped forward. She fell back, butt hitting the table.

He moved forward, trapping her between his body and the edge of the table. She knew she should run; should scream for help. She couldn't; her body was frozen. Dean's bloodstained hand came up and cupped her chin. His grip was gentle. He leaned close, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he rubbed his thumb across her lips. "You've been kissing Sammy." His tongue dipped out of his mouth and licked at her bottom lip. "Doesn't he taste like happiness?" Dean asked with a quiet moan.

Hands curved around her shoulders. Her eyes swerved to the side and suddenly Sam's was leaning over her shoulder nuzzling his head against Dean's. Their lips met in a heated kiss. Hot breath curled around their meshing tongues only sear across the side of her face. Shelia eyes began to hurt and for the first time she realized she was crying. Something brushed past her stomach. A large hand moved under her shirt then rested against her abdomen. A sob tore from her throat. "Please."

Dean's mouth broke from Sam's and found its way to the bigger man's neck. Shelia saw the whiteness of teeth then the hand on her stomach shuddered. "Please," she begged again.

Rough laugher thundered near her ear. "Don't worry. Sammy's not into girls." She felt Sam's chest rumble. "Well, at least not for sex." Suddenly the heat and pressure of Sam's body is gone and she's being pushed. Her back hit the table hard. Another sob echoed inside the restaurant. Dean hopped onto the table, placing a muscled leg on either side of her. He loomed over her. She lashed out. Her nails caught him across the jaw. He lifted back in surprise and she caught him one more time under his left eye before Sam's hands stop her.

He violently wrenched her arms over her head then slammed them into the table. Pain knocked into her shoulders. She screamed. "Don't hurt my brother you fucking whore," Sam spat out. Something pushed against her mouth. It's hard, yet warm and wet. It's only a second before she recognized the shape of a knife. She kept her lips stiffly pressed together, but blood still slid between them. Bile rose in her throat.

Dean pressed the knife down harder. "I wouldn't open your mouth if I were you," he said. "You never know what I might cut off." Terror ran through her veins. She squeezed her eyes shut, and hot tears pooled behind her ears. She felt the knife slid smoothly across her mouth until the sharp tip is cuts into her cheek. Then the world slowed.

She heard the heavy pants from both of the boys. The rain still fell hard and the wind howled. Thunder boomed in the distance. Everything seemed surreal. Suddenly, the tip of the knife pulled away. Her own thick blood trickled down her face, mixing with her tears. Dean jerked into her. "You're going to do it?" he asked hoarsely. Something hard poked into her hip. He twisted and she realized he was aroused. "God Sammy."

She wanted to open her eyes and see what was going on. She didn't. She kept her lids tightly shut. White circles and squares danced across the blackness of her vision. Her body trembled and she knew with certainty death was minutes away. The soft shuffle of cloth brushed behind her head. There was movement over her face; it was fast enough to cause a drift of air to blow over her. Then there was pain. It was sharp and acute across her neck. She heard her life gushing out. She heard Dean moan and felt another jerk against her leg. Then she felt and heard no more.


End file.
